


Courte-Paume

by lirin



Category: Oxford Time Travel Universe - Connie Willis, The Scarlet Pimpernel - Baroness Orczy
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:46:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirin/pseuds/lirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All I wanted was to complete my studies of <i>courte-paume</i> in the reign of Louis XIV. I swear I didn’t break any rules, I just stretched them a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Conciergerie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katarina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katarina/gifts).



All I wanted was to complete my studies of _courte-paume_ in the reign of Louis XIV. My thesis is due in less than two months, and I’ve been having a devil of a time getting my observations finished. Warder’s hours are reduced due to her upcoming wedding, and for some reason instead of hiring somebody else to substitute when she can’t be there or anything as logical as that, the people in charge seemed to think that we historians could just get by with reduced access. And then in what minimal time the lab was available, Lady Schrapnell’s pet projects got top priority because she’s paying for everything, so what’s a poor graduate historian studying mere recreation in a whole ‘nother country supposed to do? I doubt most people in my shoes would have held out as long as I did before stretching the rules.

What was that? Was it a rat? On second thought, don’t tell me.

Anyway, I said ‘stretching’ the rules, and I swear I didn’t break any rules. After all, nobody said we weren’t allowed in the lab when Warder wasn’t there. So if my flatmate happens to be dating an undergraduate lab technician who says she can send me to the 17th century if we get her into the lab...well, wouldn’t you have done the same? I mean, my livelihood’s at stake here.

So I pulled together a costume fit for a nobleman of middling income, and late Friday night my flatmate and his girlfriend Stacey and I sneaked into the lab, and next thing I knew it I’d come through my drop behind the stables at Versailles, and everything looked fine. I couldn’t find a newspaper or anything to confirm my temporal location, but I didn’t have any reason to assume it hadn’t gone correctly, and I was in a hurry, so I headed directly to the tennis court. My plan was to play a few games, ingratiate myself with the other players, try to find out what their motivation was for playing _courte-paume_ , why they took time out of a busy life for such recreation.

I got to the tennis court and flung the door open, racket in hand—and that’s when everything went to hell. As I’m sure you’ve figured out by now, the tennis court wasn’t in use as a tennis court any longer. It was full of men yelling about politics. It sounded like a meeting of the Estates-General, but they hadn’t met since Louis XIII came of age in 1614, and they wouldn’t have met in a—oh. My temporal location is off by more than I thought, isn’t it? Am I in the year 1789?

I suppose I should have guessed. They wouldn’t exactly have been talking constitutions and such in the 1600s. The French Revolution. Wow. But that’s, like, guillotines, and mass murder, and that’s one of the reasons why I chose the 17th century over the 18th, is I didn’t want to run into any of that stuff. Not to mention being in danger of it myself.

I must admit I’ve been pretty scared this last month, locked up in prison for who-knew-what reason, but now you’re here, so I know I’m going to be okay. I can’t say how I relieved I was when you told me you were here to rescue me. Mr. Dunworthy sent you, didn’t he. I’m going to be in so much trouble when we get back to the 21st century. Are we going back to my drop at Versailles, or do you have a new drop location?

You _are_ part of the retrieval team, aren’t you, M. Rateau?

Where are you going? Is this red flower supposed to mean something to me? Come back!


	2. On the Versailles Road

“All right, that’s the lot,” the ragged coal-heaver said. His bluff, cheerful tone—not to mention the fact that he was speaking English—was rather at odds with his guise. But then, most of the folk accompanying him had been carried out of the Conciergerie over his shoulder in a lumpy bag that tasted of coal dust, so they already knew that he was not what he seemed.

“Right, everybody in the cart,” said a second of the coal-heavers, while the third slid quietly away towards the prison they had just left. _“Tout le monde, montez dans la charrette.”_ He offered his hand to the youngest woman in the group, who looked embarrassed at the disarray of her toilette and the general dustiness of her visage. _“Montez, s’il-vous-plait, Mademoiselle.”_

With a few more instructions, the coal-heavers had all six of the escaping prisoners crowded into the small closed cart, and they set off at a trot.

“D’you think they’ll block entry to Paris, soon, Ffoulkes?” one of the coal-heavers commented as they rode along.

“It’s difficult to predict what the mob that’s currently in charge will do,” his companion said. “But with any luck, there will soon be enough prisoners escaping that even they will notice and they’ll have to do something about it.”

Silence resumed, and the cart continued to roll, jostling the occupants jammed inside. The drivers apparently knew an unguarded gate, for their progress did not slow until they were far down the Versailles road. Finally, after thumping and bumping for what seemed an age, the cart pulled off the road and halted in the outskirts of a small lush copse.

“Everybody out! _Sortez!_ ” the drivers commanded, opening the rear doors of the vehicle. Its occupants immediately exited, moved not so much by a conscious will to obey but out of a need to be less crowded, like molecules in a gas.

Although their rescuers spoke English without any accent, they were also quite fluent in French. They proceeded to explain, in French, that the group was to don disguises (handed out as they spoke), and to cross the copse and continue north, staying out of sight of the road, and that they would be met by another of their band who would load them in his carriage (“Much bigger and more comfortable this time, I promise,” the second coal-heaver said, coaxing a small smile from the youngest mademoiselle) and take them the rest of the way to safety.

“Not you, M. Courte-Paume,” he added, returning to English as the rest of the escaped prisoners headed off through the copse. “I’m told you need to get to Versailles?”

“Er...yes?”

“You should be safe for a short while in Versailles, especially as you don’t look anything like you did when you were there last. Here are papers to prove your identity as Jean Moreau, harmless merchant. They’re forged, though, so try not to depend on them.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I won’t be in Versailles very long.”

“That’s wise. The Estates-General...well, what are they calling themselves now...the National Assembly, I think...aren’t meeting at the tennis court any longer, but there are still too many soldiers and revolutionaries about for safety. There’s the road; head west and you’ll be in Versailles in less than an hour.”

“Thanks,” the man said. He tucked the identity papers inside the ragged vest of his disguise, and headed off.

“D’you think he really is a time-traveller?” the second coal-heaver asked the first.

“I doubt it,” his companion returned. “You know Percy. He’s got more sense than any of us, but he’s told a wild tale or two in his time. Besides, the story falls apart at a key point: why would people in the future want to devote their entire lives to studying _courte-paume_?”

“I've no idea. Now if the man were studying cricket, then Percy’s story might have made sense.”

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any French mistakes; it's been a while since high school.
> 
> The idea for this story came when my sister Katarina was talking about the test she had been studying for, which covered the Tennis Court Oath among other topics, and somehow we ended up talking about how funny it would be if someone had walked in just wanting to play tennis.
> 
> This is not how I expected to crossover the two fandoms of my heart for the first time...but I suppose it's as good a way as any. :-)


End file.
